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“Untie me,” JJ orders, her voice hoarse… broken.
What have I done?
Fuck.
“Untie me!”
I somehow manage to move and undo the leather cuffs around her ankles. Darting up, I free her left wrist, and instantly JJ grabs hold of my side, a sob breaking loose from her. I release her right wrist then stagger away from her until there’s a safe distance between us.
Sinking down to my knees, a strangled groan forces its way out of me.
“It’s okay.” Her voice sounds as if she’s miles away from me.
What have I done?
I struggle to get air past the raw guilt of what I just did to the woman I love.
“It’s okay, Daniel,” JJ whispers.
I fucking raped JJ.
I raped JJ.
My body trembles uncontrollably. My mind becomes a neverending reel of her cries, her whimpers, her sobs. Her fucking tears.
I raped my Julie.
Grabbing hold of my chest, I lower my head as an acidic tear falls to the carpet.
I feel JJ moving closer to me, and darting to my feet, I rush to the door.
“Don’t leave! God, please don’t leave,” she cries out, panic lacing her words.
I can’t leave her alone.
But I can’t face her.
I can’t… fuck. I can’t do any of this.
Keeping my back to her, my voice is raw when I force the words out. “Cover yourself.”
So I can’t see what I’ve done.
But I can fucking hear, and the sob from JJ is another blow to the crumbled foundation I’ve built my entire life on.
Dropping down in the chair Rama was sitting in, I bury my face in my hands, and unable to process the relentless guilt, the raw ache, and the fact that I hurt JJ in the worst possible way, I break down for the first time since my parents died.
Christ, I’m going to lose my mind.
JJ
I’m a freaking emotional mess, still trying to come down from the impossible heights O’Brien took me to, how unbelievably incredible he felt, and how he dominated me.
The moment I see his total opposite reaction to what I’m feeling, my heart shatters to pieces.
He clearly doesn’t want me touching him, and watching him fall apart is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to face in my life. Even harder than when I saw those photos of my father’s dismembered body.
It’s crushing… brutal, making my tears fall for a whole different reason now.
Yanking the covers off the bed, I wrap them around me and sink down to the floor.
“It’s okay,” I whimper, wishing he would hear me.
“Quiet.” The word shudders from him, his powerful body quaking under the force of whatever he’s feeling.
Then it hits.
Maybe it’s not okay? Just because it was fine with me doesn’t mean it was the same for O’Brien.
Oh, God.
He doesn’t feel the same about me.
Does he view me as a little sister?
A wave of nausea pushes up my throat, and scrambling to my feet, I rush into the tiny ensuite bathroom and empty my stomach in the toilet.
Does he feel violated?
One after the other, the horrifying thoughts keep coming until there’s nothing to vomit, and I feel drained of life itself.
I’m so caught up in my thoughts I startle when O’Brien appears in the doorway. His eyes settle on me, but there’s zero emotion in them. I’ve never seen the granite expression on his face as if he’s switched off his feelings.
Maybe he did, so he can cope.
“Clean yourself up,” he instructs, the words sounding foreign, unyielding, dominating.
Climbing to my feet, I nod, which he doesn’t even see as he turns away from me. With trembling fingers, I quickly open one of the new toothbrushes and gag on the toothpaste as I scrub the acid taste from my mouth. After rinsing my mouth, I cup some water in my hand and force it down.
The trembling in my body grows as if I’m having withdrawals from not having O’Brien inside me.
I reach into the shower, and turning on the faucets, I don’t even wait for the water to warm before stepping beneath the spray.
Glancing down my body, I see the red marks O’Brien left on me and remember the mind-blowing feel of his hands all over my skin.
It felt as if he enjoyed the sex.
My hand lifts, my fingertips touching my lips.
He kissed me with so much passion.
He orgasmed.
My eyes lower to my legs.
I can still feel him inside me.
He didn’t fuck me like someone who hated every second of it.
Voices draw my attention away from the thoughts, but they’re talking Albanian, so I can’t understand what they’re saying.
Hurrying, I quickly grab the small bottle of body wash and clean myself. After rinsing and turning off the faucets, I take a towel from a warming rack and wrap it around myself before peeking into the room.
There’s no sign of O’Brien.
Instantly I feel unsafe and glance around for anything I can use as a weapon should one of the other men come. Fear slams the breath from my lungs, panic making my pulse flutter violently.
